Wolf's Fall (Alpha Pack #6)(63)

The wolf shot her a look of gratitude before finishing the rogue. She made several more kills before the hair stirred at the back of her neck. Whirling, she found herself face-to-face with a rogue, teeth yellow, fetid breath making her gag. His eyes, however, were wide and the tip of a sword was protruding from his chest. He fell, and Tarron pulled the sword from the rogue, then decapitated it for good measure.

“Thanks,” she shouted.

His face was a mask of anger. “What the f*ck are you doing out here? Get to safety!”

“No! I can fight! I’ve killed several of the enemy already!”

Her eyes widened as she spotted a hunter rushing at Tarron from behind. Gritting her teeth, she shot the bastard between the eyes, and he fell at her brother’s heels. “See?”

“Thanks,” he rasped, shaking his head. “But I don’t want you here. Please, sis, go.”

“I can’t. You need me.”

There wasn’t time to keep arguing about it. A new surge of the enemy came at them like a solid wall, and bitter fear clogged her throat. There were more of them than before. Where were Damien and his wolves?

A hoarse shout sounded at her back, and her blood froze. She spun in time to see Tarron fall, crimson spreading across his chest.

“No!”

She tried to run to her brother, but a hand fisted in her hair from behind and slammed her face into the pillar. The world spun on its axis.

Nick! Tarron’s down! Help me!

Then all went dark as she was lifted and carried away.

* * *

God help them all. This wasn’t a fight—it was a slaughter.

Nick had shifted to his wolf form as soon as they dove into the battle. If he hadn’t, he’d already be dead. His wolf was faster, more agile. Able to take more physical abuse before he went down for good.

His focus was narrowed to a razor-sharp point. Seek. Attack. Kill. Move on.

There was nothing but blood and death. The only question was who would be the next to fall. All around him, Tarron’s men lay broken on the stone floor. Many beheaded. No coming back from that.

Nick tried to keep tabs on his own team, but it was impossible to spot them all.

Aric was the first of them to fall.

Nick almost got himself beheaded as he whirled to see the red wolf lying in a dark pool of blood. His eyes were closed, and it was impossible to tell whether he was alive. Forcing himself back to the fight, he shut out the grief. The fear. Nothing could keep him breathing but rage.

And love. This was his family. The enemy was trying to take that away, but he wasn’t going to let that happen. No matter how badly they were outnumbered.

Across the foyer, he saw Kalen grow still, Sorcerer’s staff in one hand. Kalen’s eyes closed as he concentrated on whatever spell he was going to unleash on the enemy. Nick silently urged him to hurry.

But a cruel laugh rose above the mayhem. Nick’s guts twisted as he saw Jinn appear a few feet from his Sorcerer, eyes gleaming with malice and anticipation. Quickly, Nick shifted to human form.

“Kalen, look out!” he shouted. Just in time.

Kalen’s eyes flew open and he assessed the new threat briefly before they engaged in a magical battle the likes of which Nick had never seen. Lightning shot through the rooms and bounced off the rocky walls. Sparks rained down as black and white magic clashed, battled for dominance.

The two magicians were snarling at each other, teeth bared, muscles straining as they faced off. Threw spell after spell in an attempt to overthrow the other. Nick shifted back to his wolf and started toward Jinn, hoping to distract him long enough for Kalen to win the fight.

Then a pair of hunters came at Nick and he was forced to face them.

Redoubling his efforts, he fought on.

* * *

Calla came awake gradually, her head pounding. When she finally became aware of her surroundings, a number of things seeped into her brain.

First, she had no idea where she was, but wherever that might be, it was uncomfortably chilly. Second, she wasn’t alone. Stretching, she found herself lying on her right side on the hard floor, pressed into the curve of someone’s body. Wetness invaded that side, and she shivered.

Next she realized that her clothing was disheveled. She was barefoot and her jeans were torn. Since her left wrist was handcuffed to something metallic, she clutched at her shirt with her right hand. Still there, not torn.

Opening her eyes, she tried to focus her vision. Somewhere above, a dim bulb chased away the shadows of the dank room—and far above that, she heard sounds of a distant battle.

“Nick!” It all came rushing back. Tarron had fallen, and someone had hit her, knocked her out. Who was next to her? What was this place? Lifting her head, she saw a steep flight of stairs in a far corner with a metal railing running down the side. Finally, she recognized the space as an old storage area below the stronghold’s living quarters.

A low, anguished moan broke the silence behind her. With sudden, startling clarity, she knew exactly who was there and braced herself. He’d been bleeding, badly injured, and was bound to be in bad shape. She maneuvered onto her stomach, then her left side. Shock and outrage left her gasping.

“Oh, Tarron, no.”

Although grateful to find him alive, how this was possible she couldn’t imagine. A savage beating had left his body broken and bloodied, the purple bruising forming a multitude of fist-sized patterns all over his torso. Straining against the shackles around his wrists and ankles had cut deep gouges, exposing the bone. The wound in his chest might be from a gun or blade. She couldn’t tell. But it was oozing red, his vampire healing not quite sealing off the gash. Hopefully it would close soon. While she’d been out, someone had been methodically torturing him.